A Different Path
by Spartacat10
Summary: Clare did not find Rubel that day. Instead, she found a different, more controllable power, in the form of a wizard willing to teach her.


The Rain came down in buckets, further dampening young Clare's spirits. She clutched to Teresa's head like it might fly away, and her eyes were downcast, ignorant to her surrondings.

_"Find the organization, get them to make me into Claymore, so far so good." _She groused to herself. _"What's that? Don't know where they are? Don't worry! Just pick any direction, you'll find them eventually!"_

Just then her foot caught a root, tripping her up and nearly causing her to lose her grip on Teresa's head. The last straw. Getting to her knees, all her negative feelings, her frustration, her sadness and anger from losing Teresa bubbled over.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?!" She shouted up at the sky, as if the universe would give her an answer.

She could not be sure if the universe was answering her that day, or if it was a mere coincidence, but the next thing she heard was a twig snap, drawing her eyes to the tree line.

Where there was a yoma, it's skin a sickly purple grey. As it slowly moved closer, her mind screamed for her to flee, to fight, to do anything! But her body would not comply, and did not move as it reached out to grab her.

"Smart little kid, knowing its place as cat-eugh!" It was interrupted as a man, seeming to appear from out of nowhere, drove a sword through its head, killing it before it could move. The man silently pushed the creature off his blade with his foot, then turned towards Clare. The man had a cloak on, under which a chest plate could be seen, calm eyes, a wispy white beard, and a sense of being truly ancient about him.

"You lost, little girl?" A question, of which Clare responded with a simple nod.

"Well then! It would not be proper of me to leave a little girl out in the rain! Come along, I know a place you can spend the night." He stated, offering his hand to Clare, who began to stand up.

"Lead the way." She answered curtly, ignoring his hand. Letting out a quiet 'harumph!' he turned in the direction Clare was heading and walked off, with Clare following behind him.

—

The tower looked ancient, and the wooden double doors made a loud creak as the old man held one of them open for Clare. The room seemed larger on the inside, and seemed to be a library, what with the tall bookshelves throughout most of the room.

"There's some rooms over there, I'll get something to eat." The man said, gesturing towards a door to the side before walking up off. Clare gave a quick thank you, then headed on through the doors. On the other side was what appeared to be a common room, with a large table in the center of the room, and doors leading to what were mostly likely guest room in all directions. She took a seat at the table and waited for the old man, who entered some time later carrying two plates with vegetables and even some meat, which Clare began to dig into.

"So?" He began. "What's your name, girl? And what brought you to be wandering the woods carrying someone's head?"

And so she told him, laying out her entire story seemingly without emotion. The yoga slaughtering her family, finding Teresa, and her desicion to become a Claymore with utter frankness. When she was down the old man let a sigh.

"So this is the world, one where children's thoughts are occupied with revenge rather than play." He lamented.

"Why is that a surprise to you, you live in it." Clare questioned.

"I do not leave this tower often, child, most of my time is spent in study." The man defended. And just as Clarre was about to question what sort of studies takes that much time, the old man gave a wave of his hand, and several twinkling lights appeared, soon vanishing.

"You did that?" Clare asked, staring at the spot the lights where in wonder. The man gave a simple nod, a small smirk on his face, before producing a ball of fire in his hand. Clare, still having that wondrous look on her face, reached out for the flame, before wrenching it back at the heat.

"Careful, it's hot." The man said, his smirk now having upgraded into a full-fledged smile. Clare knew. She knew that fire could burn, could destroy, could kill.

It could kill Priscilla. **She **could kill Priscilla.

"Show me." She had left the sight of Teresa's death looking for the Organization and power. She had found one of those things.


End file.
